A Tale Only Whispered
by Tylendal
Summary: Faramir is abused by his father and so a certain wizard loses his temper and takes him to Imladris. This is A Tale of the Steward of Gondor, the son of Denethor and brother of Boromir. A Tale which was Only Whispered. Until Now.
1. Destiny

_**A Tale Only Whispered**_

Disclaimer:-If I owned Lord of the Rings then I would be writing whole books about Faramir and not just writing a stupid fanfic. 

Chapter 1-Destiny

Gandalf paused as he glimpsed the rising sun. Better rest for a while and then continue the journey to Minas Tirith or the guards seeing him would make a hue and cry about enemies approaching under the cover of darkness. 

As he rested his back against an old tree he reflected. Mount Doom had burst into flame again and soon Sauron would play his last savage stroke and engulf the whole of Middle Earth into darkness. If not for the Stewards Minas Tirith might as well have fallen long ago. It was strange that that the Stewards had shown to be more wise than the kings. 

Or, he mused, perhaps they felt that they were guarding something not theirs, even if they felt that the king would never return. How strange Mortals were, they would sometimes steal things from others but when it came to safeguarding something of others they would take care of it more carefully than anything of their own. Likewise the kings of Gondor had disregarded their kingdom while the Stewards had disregarded their families while taking care of the kingdom. There had been tension between Stewards Turin and Turgon, Turgon and Ecthelion, Ecthelion and Denethor and now between Denethor and his second son Faramir. 

How could Denethor not love his endearing second child? Gandalf knew that Faramir had the gift of foresight, he could read the hearts of men as shrewdly as his father, growing up Faramir would become a great captain of men, a brilliant military strategist, the blood of Numenor runs nearly true in him and he would lay down his life for Gondor and his father, what more could a father ask of his son? And yet Denethor was cold with him. And if he read the signs correctly Denethor was being more than cold to the child. The Grey Pilgrim was seldom wrong in his long life but right now he wished he were. Few he had come to love in his long life and he had somehow come to love the second child of the Steward of Gondor like a son, he thought to himself as he got up to continue his long journey to Minas Tirith. 

* * *

"Faramir! Fa-ra-mir! Where are you Faramir?" Boromir yelled as he searched for his bereft nine-year-old brother. "Where are you, you little piece of-" 

"Little piece of what?" asked the said lost brother, popping his head out of a book to look more clearly at his brother. 

"Finally! Found you!" Boromir said as he flopped down beside Faramir. "I've been searching for you all morning. Uncle Imrahil's wife is going to have a baby!! The news came just an hour ago." 

"Hmm…" said Faramir, apparently more interested in his book than in the yet unborn babe. 

"Maybe it'll finally be a girl!" He paused, looking at Faramir and said, "And maybe I should throw you in the pool with your book." 

"Huh? Oh, sorry Boro, I was just reading about Tar-Palantír." 

"He was one of the one of the kings of Numenor, wasn't he?" 

"Yes. He was the second last king and he made lots of prophecies about the fall of Numenor," Faramir continued, eager to share his knowledge, "But people didn't believe him and his nephew usurped the throne after he died." 

"Well, people would have believed and paid more attention to him and his prophecies if he had just gone out and told that Numenor was going to sink." Boromir snorted, "Anyway, its nearly lunchtime, we should get going." 

"You go on ahead, I'll just put this book back in my room." 

"Alright, but don't be late!" Boromir said as he scampered off. 

Faramir sighed as he gathered his books, another lunch with father, another hour sitting at the lunch table either to be ignored by him or listen about his own faults. Why couldn't father leave him alone? But the true trouble had started about a year ago maybe more, maybe less. He dumped his books n the table and looked out of the window. A flash of gray caught his eye. Faramir suddenly brightened up. 

It was Mithrandir!

Faramir debated, to go and meet him and risk being late for lunch or to meet him later. But it appeared to be already decided as his father was walking with Mithrandir and they both were disappearing into the house. Feeling more cheery than a few minutes ago he made his way to the hall for lunch. 

Faramir suddenly spied the Wizard walking alone. 

"Mithrandir!" He cried as he left forward to hug the wizard. 

"Ah!" The Wizard exclaimed in delight, "How have you been, Faramir?" 

"I'm very well, thank you," Faramir said cheerfully while wincing inside and wondering, _Does he suspect? Does he know?_

"Where is father? I thought I saw him with you." 

"The Steward was called away on some urgent work, I believe it had something to do with the army." Mithrandir said while thinking that it's always about the army nowadays. 

"So, tell me more about yourself, Faramir, and your brother. He's supposed to join the army soon isn't he?" 

"Oh, yes, he is in a few months. And he's going to be the best warrior ever born!" Faramir bragged as they made their way through the crowd of Gondorion soldiers intent on getting to the storehouse where the weapons were kept. 

"And you? What are you going to be? A warrior too?" said the Wizard. 

"I have to be, in these times, especially being the Stewards son," Faramir said frowning. "Though maybe I'll be a ranger, they say Ithilien is beautiful." 

"Anyway, Faramir, did I tell you the story about the burglar and the thirteen dwarfs and their plan to get a treasure from a dragon?" Mithrandir said, hoping to raise the boy's spirits. 

"Really? Tell me about it!" Faramir exclaimed eagerly. 

"Well, it all started, as they say in Middle Earth, a chance meeting…" 

The young boy and the old man went off hand in hand not knowing what the coming days would bring them but bring it did. It brought fireworks to change the course of destiny or perhaps that had been destiny's plan all along. 

***


	2. Decisions

_**A Tale Only Whispered**_

* * *

Sentences in _Italics_ and **Bold** are thoughts. 

Chapter 2- Decisions

"And so Glorfindel of Gondolin, Glorfindel the Golden of the Golden Flower House came back as Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer."

"Is he still alive?" asked Faramir in excitement.

"Perhaps yes," said Mithrandir with a sly look, "Perhaps no."

"I bet he's still alive, Elves are immortal, aren't they?" said Boromir with confidence.

Mithrandir had been entertaining the Stewards sons with stories of Elves, dwarfs and not to mention lucky hobbits.

"Corrupting my sons, Mithrandir?" said a voice that held enough coldness to freeze a Balrog or two.

Or perhaps ten.

"Of course not father, he was just telling us stories." Said Faramir quickly, shooting a nervous glance at the Wizard.

"Father, what happened at the battlefield?" asked Boromir eagerly.

It seemed to his sons and Mithrandir that for a moment Denethor looked old, that there was a great shadow was over his face especially his eyes but then the moment passed.

"We managed to hold the enemy back but lost more than three-fourth of the company."

They all bowed their heads in silence to respect the fallen warriors. The blow would be hardest on the families of the fallen soldiers; they would run out on the street looking anxiously to find a loved one that would never return. A widow's hysterically screaming and crying refusing to believe that she had become a widow, a mother with her head bowed accepting that another one of her sons was dead, a father unable to find the body of his son, cursing himself that he could not have died in the place of his beloved son, children doomed to be born and raised without the protection and love of a father…

"Denethor, I must be off tonight. I have to…visit some places."

"Of course Mithrandir, we hope you will grace Gondor with your presence some other time." Said Denethor in a polite tone of voice with a hint of sarcasm. 

Mithrandir could not bare facing Faramir's disappointed gaze.

* * *

Mithrandir was preparing his horse for the long journey ahead. _What a fool I was. To think that a Steward could abuse his son._ Yes, Mithrandir had thought of the possibility. Telltale signs in his last visits. A few months after the death of Finduilas the signs began to appear. After all, there were only so many times that a boy could fall down the stairs or trip over a cat.

But now he was satisfied that he had been mistaken all along. With the corner of his eye he saw a small flash on the top of the Tower of Ecthelion. _What's that?_

* * *

"Faramir, come into my study before bedtime," said Denethor sternly.

"Yes, father." Faramir said while inwardly groaning. _Not again. Ai Valar, please no!_

After dinner Faramir tried to read but he could not concentrate. Boromir had already gone to bed. He got up and began walking towards his fathers study resigned to his fate. 

"Father?" he said cautiously. "Are you here?" 

* * *

Something was troubling Mithrandir. He was getting that feeling that he usually got before a foe snuck up on him. He looked around uneasily but there was nothing there. He mentally berated himself. _Fool, you are still in Minas Tirith. How could the enemy get inside, past the defenses? And yet,_ he thought to himself grimly, _his will and malice can._

Suddenly, he saw a small shadow in the window of the Stewards room. Another shadow, but bigger loomed over the smaller shadow. In its hand was a rod or a stick.

Mithrandir had better hearing then Elves, and right now he was hearing things from the Stewards room that he'd rather not.

* * *

"Father, please no, don-"

"Shut up, boy! Do you know how many people died in that battle today??" said Denethor in a drunken rage that was devouring him and delivering another blow Faramir again.

"But, Father, It was not my fault! Please…" said Faramir. He could feel himself slipping away. _I'll see Mother again…it won't be so bad…_but then another name entered his conscious- **Boromir.** _No, I can't leave Boromir, not like this. Eru, please help me!_

Then suddenly he saw a brilliant grey light.

* * *

Mithrandir stood petrified and undecided, arguing with himself.

**It is not your place!**

_But Denethor will kill him!_

**He's survived this long hasn't he? Would you jeopardize the friendship of Gondar for him?** A malicious voice whispered in his head. Even a Maia had a dark side.

Then he came to a decision.

* * *

Denethor grew even more enraged when he saw that Faramir was no longer moving. But his attention was diverted when Mithrandir came bursting through the door.

Mithrandir quickly took the scene in. Faramir was laying a corner of the room. His clothes were red. His blood had covered the clothes he was wearing.

_How could he?_ He thought to himself in horror. Hurt his own son like that?

Bristling with wrath and anger he turned to face Denethor, the twenty-sixth ruling Steward of Gondor.

* * *


	3. To Let Go

**

_A Tale Only Whispered_

**

* * *

Chapter 3- To Let Go

Sentences in _Italics_ and **Bold** are thoughts.

"How could you do this to your own son? Ever since Finduilas died you have been venting your frustration on him!"

"Be off crazy fool, thou does not know what the duties are of a Steward. Faramir must harden himself," said Denethor.

"That is no reason for you to beat him!" Mithrandir was getting very tired of this conversation. Only the years of fighting the Dark Lord was restraining his urge to put a spell on the Steward or to simply whack him over the head with his staff._ He must see reason quickly or my temper will get the better of me and he will be the last Ruling Steward of Gondor._

"Denethor, t-"

"Do you think I do not know of the your plans?" the Steward said in a dangerously low voice. "Do you think that I could not see through the guise of Thorongil?"

"Thorongil does not have anything to do with this! Look what you have done to your son- your blood! I know that the Stewards job is difficult- I know that the pressures of the Mordor are difficult to stand but there is yet hope-"

"Hope? There is no hope left. It is the Stewards who have to send the letters to the people saying that their loved ones are dead. And while all this where is the king? Tarrying in the north! He is no hope!"

"Denethor, I grow weary of this. Your madness is consuming you! Look what you madness has done!" saying this Mithrandir strode to the bloodied mess that was Faramir. "Look!" He took Faramir in his arms and started towards the door.

"Where are you taking him? Let go of my son!" said Denethor, snapping out of his trance.

"Denethor, it is time for you to let him go, for a few years at least. I will take him to a place where he will grow up safely. Then when he is old enough he will be able to…" the wizard left off the last few words.

"No." Denethor whispered. He was beginning to realise what he had done.

"Yes, Denethor, it is not safe for Faramir to be with you anymore."

"Please, do not take him away from me, do not take my son from me! I- I will never hurt him again, do not take him away." Denethor was weeping now.

"Denethor, you know this in your heart that you might hurt him again. Let him go." Mithrandir said.

"Go." Denethor whispered after a long pause.

Mithrandir turned and ran from the room, Faramir in his arms as though fearing that Denethor would suddenly change his mind.

The day dawned bright. Denethor groaned. What a terrible dream I had. As if I could do that to Faramir- He suddenly stopped short. _It was not a dream. I really did it! I hurt my own son. How could I? I almost killed him! What have I done??_

The night's events came back to him. The beatings had started innocently enough- a small slap or so but when had it turned to almost murder? But the most nauseating thing was that after Denethor would beat Faramir he would some how feel satisfied._ I was venting my frustration on him. I do not deserve to be called his father._

But Faramir is all right now. Mithrandir would take care of him.

**You would leave your son to be corrupted by the Grey Fool, by even the Elves perhaps? Get back Faramir now!** A malicious thought whispered in his head.

_No, let Faramir go, he will be safe with Mithrandir. Do this for Finduilas, for Boromir._

Yes, he would let Faramir go. For now. But what would he tell the people of Gondor? What would he tell **Boromir?**

"Father, where is Faramir? He is not in his room. Have you seen him?" asked Boromir at breakfast.

Denethor put down his knife and fork. It was time to tell a few lies. "Boromir, listen carefully, I received news that some people are trying to kill the Stewards heirs so that is why I have sent Faramir away. You will soon join the army and will be safe with your comrades or as safe as you can be in times like these but Faramir is still a boy and thus is in more danger."_ Yes, danger from you._

"You sent him away?" Boromir was in shock. "And he didn't even say goodbye to me."

Denethor saw that Boromir was hurt that Faramir had not even spoken with him before he left so he said, "He wanted to, but we were in a great hurry, we practically had to drag him away." _It is the least I can do._

"Who were the people that threatened Faramir's life?" Boromir's eyes were ablaze with anger at the people who would dare to harm his beloved brother.

"I cannot tell you that."

"But-"

"No, Boromir."

Boromir stabbed his plate savagely with his knife and fork and looking as though he would like nothing better to do than to go to the assassins and chop them up into small pieces with his utensils.

"When will he be back?" Boromir said in a subdued tone of voice.

"I do not know." Denethor whispered.

Mithrandir had been riding for two days, stopping only for short intervals to rest the horse and to eat. He thought to himself, _Faramir will not survive for long._ Suddenly a groan shook him out of his thoughts. It had come from Faramir.

He checked the horse's speed and anxiously said, "Faramir?"

"Mithrandir?" a weak voice asked back.

"Yes, Faramir, it is I."

"Mithrandir, where are we?"

"We are not in Minas Tirith anymore Faramir. Your father almost killed you and that is why I had to take you away."

"What about Boromir? I didn't even say goodbye to him." Said Faramir in distress.

"It was the only way Faramir. Your brother, seeing you in this…state…would be very unhappy." Mithrandir said conspicuously avoiding mentioning Denethor.

There was silence from Faramir and Mithrandir thought that he had gone back to sleep when suddenly Faramir spoke again.

"Mithrandir?"

"Yes, Faramir?" said Mithrandir, dreading that Faramir might ask about his father.

"Thank you."


	4. Dramatic Arrivals

_**A Tale Only Whispered**_  
  
Chapter 4- Dramatic Arrivals  
  
_**Imladris**_  
  
"Ha! Mirkwood Elves beat Imladris Elves? At archery? Never! Imladris Elves are better!"  
  
"Elladan, tis not good to dream during the light of the day."  
  
"Will you two Elves ever stop? This has been going on for more than an hour!" said Estel as he known in Imladris. He grinned deviously, "Though I have to say, Mirkwood Elves are better are archery."  
  
"Hah, see, your own brother says it!" crowed Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
"Estel, you traitor! That's it! Elrohir," he said turning towards his twin, "We are never going to talk to him ever again."  
  
"Boys," A voice muttered disdainfully.  
  
"Did you say anything Arwen?" said Elrohir sweetly turning towards his younger sister.  
  
"Yes, I was merely wondering whether you all are more than 2500 years old or are just 55."  
  
"Well, Estel is still a child, he's only about 60," Said Legolas mischievously.  
  
"It is not my fault that you and the twins are getting old whereas I still manage to retain my youth and handsomeness." said Estel flippantly.  
  
He had to duck to avoid a hailstorm of stones thrown in his direction.  
  
"Honestly, you four are just back from a battle, injured, and yet you do not stop fighting." Arwen said, emphasizing on injured.  
  
Estel, Legolas and the twins had been involved in a battle, east of the misty mountains. It seemed that the Orcs were regrouping there and a hunting party consisting of some Rangers and Elves had been taken by surprise. They had been brought to Imladris gravely injured but were recovering.  
  
"Its just how we show our affection for each other, Arwen," Elladan said, throwing an arm around Estel.  
  
Estel pushed away the arm making a face and said, "After getting used to you beating me up, I have to put up with this?"  
  
Legolas laughed and then suddenly frowned.  
  
"What?" Asked Arwen seeing his face. "What is it?"  
  
"Do you hear that?" said Legolas, "Someone comes."  
  
All five of them strained their ears.  
  
"Yes, look, a horse with its rider approaches fast."  
  
"Its Mithrandir!" exclaimed Elrohir.  
  
"Hello, Mithrandir, how h-aaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!!"  
  
Mithrandir had not stopped even though Elladan and Estel were standing in his path. They had to dive sideways to avoid being crushed by the horse.  
  
"He has finally cracked." Groaned Elladan, getting up from the ground.  
  
"Don't say that in front of him or he'll crack _you_ into two," advised Legolas, "maybe you annoyed him."  
  
"We haven't seen him for a whole year," said Estel indignantly, "How could we annoy him?"  
  
Suddenly, they saw Glorfindel hurrying towards them.  
  
Before they could say anything Glorfindel spoke, "Did you see Mithrandir?"  
  
"See him?" cried out Elladan incredulously, "He practically ran over us!"  
  
"Yes, he did almost the same thing with some of the border guards," grinned Glorfindel, "but he did say something about seeing Elrond urgently. That's where I was heading."  
  
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" prodded Arwen, "Lets go!"

* * *

Inside Imladris things were not so merry. Elrond was especially not happy seeing a bloodied mess in the wizard's arms.  
  
"Mithrandir, how exactly did this boy get injured? Was it an orc?"  
  
"Yes indeed, it was an orc." Said Mithrandir with a dark look in his eyes.  
  
Elrond frowned, not at the wizard's words but a particular wound in the boy's shoulder. If he was correct then it was...yes he was correct. This was going to be very painful.  
  
"Mithrandir, this boy has a splinter of wood in his shoulder, it will have to be removed manually, and it will be very painful." He paused and continued, "A splinter of a broken orc sword I can understand but a splinter of wood? You are not being truthful."  
  
"Yes," grimaced the wizard, "the orc in question who injured Faramir was his own father and also the Steward of Gondor."  
  
Elrond could not restrain himself from shouting, _**"What?"**_

* * *

The five Elves and the human arrived just in time to hear Elrond's shout.  
  
_**"What?"**_  
  
They winced at the noise.  
  
"I wonder what Elrond has been told by Mithrandir to make him lose control like that." Wondered Glorfindel aloud.  
  
"Something Big." Muttered Legolas.  
  
"I suppose you're waiting to know about the object of Mithrandir's dramatic arrival?" a voice spoke behind them.  
  
They all turned.  
  
"Erestor!" exclaimed Glorfindel.  
  
Erestor was the chief councillor of Elrond's. He and Glorfindel were good friends, Erestor was also good friends with the twins and Legolas but he was rather at odds with them when they got into their minds that he needed a loosening up and would promptly play a hilarious prank on him (though _he _did _not_ think it was very funny at all).  
  
"Well," he continued, "it seems that Mithrandir has bought a wounded boy for healing. He looked terrible. The boy I mean."  
  
"A boy?" Elrohir said with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Elrohir," Elrond said, poking his head out of the door, "I need some help here."  
  
"Of course Ada." Said Elrohir hurrying into the room.  
  
"Estel, I need you here too," said Elrond.  
  
The others waited impatiently outside for some news.

* * *


	5. Temper Tantrums

A Tale Only Whispered

Chapter 5- Temper Tantrums

"Mithrandir, where is Faramir going to stay after he's healed?" said Elrond. 

"I was hoping in Imladris," Said Mithrandir, steadily gazing at Elrond. 

"That is impossible," Elrond declared. 

"Nothing is impossible," said Mithrandir. 

"Imladris has not the power to fend off Gondor along with the Orcs," said Elrond firmly. "And how can we be sure that Faramir wants to stay here?" 

"Faramir is a clever boy and he knows that Denethor will kill him in a drunken rage if he goes back. Maybe in a day, a week, a month or maybe a year. And it is no use to ask Faramir right now because he is confused. He was loath to leave his brother. A choice is now in front of him, his brother or his life." 

"I do not like it," said Elrond with a tired sigh, "we will speak on this later, first we have to heal Faramir." 

Mithrandir nodded and Elrond went to call for Estel and Elrohir.

* * *

"What- are- you- saying??" said Elrohir in horror. 

"Yes, we will have to remove the splinter of wood manually," said Elrond steadily, "you and Estel will have to hold him down while I remove it. There is no other way." 

"Alright," said Estel reluctantly. 

"Get the athelas leaves ready," ordered Elrond, moving towards the bed. "It's going to be alright," he spoke softly to the half conscious boy. This feels too much like trickery. 

Nodding to his two sons to hold Faramir's arms down he took the instrument he intended to use to remove the splinter and then bracing himself, he did it. He had expected to hear the scream of pain from Faramir and braced himself for it but that still did not completely prepare and he cringed at the noise. Very much shaken, he dropped the splinter near his equally shaken sons.

* * *

Outside the room, the others were getting impatient. 

"What exactly are they doin-" started Legolas. 

Just then a blood-curling scream of pain stopped them. It was a scream filled with pain and it also reminded Elladan uncomfortably about his mother's screams when he had found her with some Orcs on that dreadful day. She had been attacked at the Redhorn pass and was carried off. Sometimes he wondered if it had been deliberate. The fact that the Orcs had chosen to carry off the wife of Elrond Peredhil nagged him. Out of the dozens, why her? And how did they know it was she? It was not exactly common knowledge. Maybe it was a plot by Sauron, to weaken Elrond. Suddenly the scream was repeated and he cringed and so did the others. 

Out of the door Estel and Elrohir appeared. 

"What exactly was that?" cried Arwen. 

Quickly, without any bravado they told them. 

"Faramir can stay here." Elrond told Mithrandir grudgingly. 

Mithrandir grinned and opened his mouth to say something but Elrond cut him off, "Not a word." 

Silence filled the room. 

"You knew," accused Elrond. "You knew that hearing Faramir's scream of pain I would let him stay." 

Mithrandir nodded his head apparently pleased with his slyness. 

"Well, from now on Faramir will stay in Imladris but with a changed name," glancing at Mithrandir as though expecting him to argue. 

But Mithrandir nodded his head, "Yes, it is a wise decision. Denethor has let Faramir go for now but he will change his decision. He will keep his ears open for news of a boy named Faramir. And even though I trust the house of Elrond, people come and go from here everyday. One may just mention the boy's name and it _**will** _reach Denethor." 

"What name should Faramir take?" sighed Elrond. 

"I do not know, maybe…Faron? No, to close," Mithrandir said. "Perhaps Tylendal." 

"Yes, Tylendal," echoed Elrond. 

"Well, I have to go see to Faramir," Elrond said after a pause.

* * *

"Ada looked terrible," said Estel sympathetically. 

"Of course he did, the screams must have reminded him of Naneth," said Elrohir darkly. "Its also different causing pain to even heal, especially to a small boy." 

"True," shuddered Estel. "Remember the ranger?" 

"Ouch," muttered Elrohir remembering the state of the ranger. And how they had to cut his leg off. The ranger had been poisoned by an orc arrow during a battle. He had ignored the pain not knowing it was poisonous, as he had never encountered that type of poison before. The result: A leg less. 

"Forget about that," said Elladan briskly. "Estel, I want you to rest, you are still recovering from your injuries." 

"We were both injured equally," Estel protested, "besides I'm completely recovered." 

"No you are not," said Elladan sharply. 

The others stared at him in shock. Elladan never spoke sharply to Estel. 

Elrond suddenly appeared. His timing was impeccable. Whenever there was an awkward moment, Elrond would appear. Sometimes they wondered if he could read they're minds. 

"The boy- is he all right Ada?" asked Arwen. 

"Yes, he's going to be all right," said Elrond briskly. "Anyway, since he now no longer has a family, he's going to stay here in Imladris." 

"Does he have to?" asked Elladan. 

"What?" asked Elrond incredulously. 

"Imladris is not a orphanage, Ada, so that orphaned mortal boys can be dumped here every day," snapped Elladan and having finished his temper tantrum, stormed off, leaving an astonished silence behind him. 


	6. A New Identity

**_A Tale Only Whispered_**

Chapter 6- A New Identity

Elladan strode angrily out of the suddenly narrow confines of Imladris. He felt the need to get some air. He crossed the first of the stables and took a detour to get away from the main paths. He sat on a bench that looked as though it might break under the weight of a leaf any moment. He took a deep breath and tried to think more clearly. What he had done, what he had said was completely out of bounds. 

_A boy just lost his family and I begrudge him a home? _Elladan looked around hoping that none of his family were seeking him out. 

Unfortunately, they were. 

"How did you find me?" asked Elladan in a monotone voice. 

"For an Elf," replied Estel, "you have abnormally the stride of a spoiled child who is stomping the ground hard in his anger." 

Elladan was overcome with guilt. How could he say things like that? Especially that Estel was also lost his father. But he had been experiencing feelings like this for years, ever since Arathorn died, ever since Estel became a ranger. It seemed that Estel was reading the conflicts in his mind. 

"It's not the boy is it? It's me. You're afraid that I might die. Just like my father did, and my fore fathers before me," Elladan raised his head to nod mutely at his foster brother and noted that his twin was also there. "Well, you can't stop it, mortals have to die and I'm not Tuor." 

"Believe me Elladan, I've always considered the possibility of just sticking Estel in a cage so that he can stop his 'rangering'," Elrohir said while shaking his head. 

"I'm sorry," Elladan blurted out, "I didn't mean it, I was just worried about you Estel." 

"Don't worry, we understand." 

Silently without a word they all three of them rose, Elladan flanked by his brothers. Suddenly, he turned to his twin and asked him, "So, did you get the cage for Estel ready?" 

"Elladan! Stop grinning like that Elrohir, I do not like it when you grin like tha-, wait, you haven't really got a cage have you? Have you?" 

The two Noldo Elves grinned and walked away without saying a word. Estel figured he'd rather not know. 

* * *

Faramir felt a pounding headache. Not only that but his whole body was paining. But then the pain suddenly began to subside. He heard a magical voice speaking though he could not understand what it was saying. He opened his bleary eyes and saw two magnificent…creatures? For he did not know what they were. One had dark hair and was a female while the other had golden hair and was a male though he looked a bit delicate. 

What were these beautiful creatures? They could certainly not be mortals and Faramir doubted that even elves could be so beautiful. And then it left only one other choice. 

"I'm dead." He murmured, closing his eyes. 

Graceful laughter greeted his ears. A voice, obviously one of the 'creatures', spoke, "Why do you say that young one?" 

"Because…I am seeing angels." 

"No you are not, young one. You are looking at Elves." 

"What?" said Faramir opening his eyes, "How did I come here? Where am I? Who are you? Who bought me here? What …?" 

"So many questions!" said the Elf with the dark hair, laughing. "But let me introduce myself, I am Arwen and the angel here is my friend Legolas." 

"I am sorry," said Faramir chagrined and embarrassed, "my name is F-," 

"Ah! You are finally awake, **Tylendal**!" said Mithrandir, emphasizing on the name, who had just entered the room. "How are you? I hope you are feeling well?" 

"Your name is Tylendal?" asked Legolas. 

"Err, yes my name is Tylendal." Faramir said. Mithrandir must have a reason for calling me Tylendal. 

"We are sorry for your loss Tylendal." Said Arwen. "I know how terrible it is to lose your family to the Orcs." 

"Thank you." Faramir said automatically. Inwardly he was shocked. _What on earth? Mother died of illness, not of an orc attack. And as far as I know, Boromir and father are still alive… father!_ Faramir suddenly felt as if he couldn't breathe. It had to be a dream, it had to! But it all came back to him now. The beatings, the conversation with Mithrandir on the horse… 

Faramir was so caught up with his thoughts that he did not notice the looks everyone in the room was giving him. They had seen the shortness of breath, the sudden stiffness. Concerned, Legolas opened his mouth to say something but Mithrandir beat it to him. 

"I would like to speak with Tylendal alone," He said. Legolas and Arwen rose silently and left the room, shutting the door behind them. 

Mithrandir felt awkward. How is one supposed to tell a child that his father almost killed him? 

"Mithrandir?" asked Faramir timidly. 

Mithrandir couldn't bear it anymore and so he told Faramir everything that had happened, reassuring him that it wasn't a dream. They spent the next few minutes in silence. 

Then Faramir asked hesitantly, "Th-the name Tylendal?" 

"It is protection from Denethor, Faramir. You're identity in Imladris is that of an orphan boy named Tylendal whose family died in an Orc attack. If you want to stay here of course." 

Mithrandir waited patiently for Faramir's decision. 

* * *


	7. I Cannot Remember My Mother

**_A Tale Only Whispered_**

* * *

Chapter 7- I Cannot Remember My Mother

Faramir felt confused. To stay? Or not to stay? "What about father and Boromir?" 

"I do not know what excuse Denethor has given Boromir," Mithrandir said sensing the hidden question. 

"I…" replied Faramir, at a lost of words, "yes I suppose. I mean if I'm not too much of a bother." 

To his surprise, Mithrandir laughed and said, "Faramir, you can never be a bother to anyone not even if you tried." 

With this rather cryptic remark he left Faramir alone. 

* * *

"Well?" 

"Well what?" 

"Mithrandir, you know what I am talking about." 

"No, I do not Lord Elrond. Please enlighten me." 

It took Lord Elrond all of his self-control not to sigh in front of the infuriating wizard. Privately he sometimes thought that the wizard had been sent to annoy the residents of Arda to death. Especially him. The Grey Pilgrim was succeeding very well. 

"Faramir, what did he say?" asked the irritated Peredhil. 

"Tylendal said that he would stay here." 

"Well that's all then," said Elrond, "And don't worry, I will warn my sons not to ask him any questions about his family or the whereabouts of his home." 

"What news did the messengers from Lorien and Mirkwood bring?" 

Blinking at the rather abrupt change of subject the Elf Lord replied, "Yes, Lord Celeborn sends his greetings and says that…" 

* * *

Faramir was feeling bored. No, he was feeling very bored. Actually he was really very very bored. Did he mention bored? It had been a few days since he was in Imladris. He was getting on quite well and healing very fast. But he felt very lonely. As far as he had seen of Imladris, there was no one even remotely of his age. Of course there were the Elves. But they were probably about a few hundred years older than him if not thousands. 

He felt terribly lonely. _I wish Boromir were here._ He missed his older brother terribly. So far he had met only a few people in Imladris. There were the twin brothers of Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir, their foster mortal brother Estel and also their friend Legolas. There was also an Elf called Erestor. 

His eyes fell on the thing he had been working on to pass the time. If only… 

"Good morning Tylendal," said Arwen entering the room. She had visited him every morning since the day he had arrived. He quickly stuffed the paper under his pillow. 

"Good morning," he replied, "Can I finally get out bed?" 

"Yes," Arwen replied, laughing at the hopeful tone in his voice. 

Tylendal quickly jumped out of the bed. "Go on," laughed Arwen, "they are waiting for you in the hall. Smiling gratefully he ran out of the room. Arwen was about to leave the room when she saw something sticking out from under Tylendal's pillow. She quickly pulled it out. There was a poem written in a handwriting she did not recognise. She supposed it was Tylendals. She quickly read the short poem. As she read it she felt tears stinging her eyes. She read it aloud to herself again. 

I cannot remember my mother  
only sometimes in the midst of my play  
a tune seems to hover over my playthings, 

the tune of some song she used to  
hum while rocking my cradle. 

I cannot remember my mother  
but when in the early autumn morning  
the smell of simbelmyne flowers floats in the air 

the scent of the fresh morning  
comes to me as the scent of my mother. 

I cannot remember my mother  
only when from my bedroom window I send  
my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,  
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face  
has spread all over the sky. 

Arwen berated herself for not seeing that Tylendal missed his mother. She knew what it was like to lose a mother. If Sauron were defeated, then she would be free to marry Estel and thus die. Die like a mortal, truly die, never to see her own mother again. 

She began to lose herself in her past. She remembered how when she was young, her grandparents would regal her with tales of Valinor and Finarfin and Eärwen. 

She had dreamed of meeting her Teleri relatives through her Grandfather Celeborn. She dreamt of meeting Elwing. But after her mother was attacked and left for Valinor, she had harboured only one true desire- meeting her mother again. Seeing her again, talking to her again, touching her again. 

When her mother had left she had been devastated. Her grandfather Celeborn, instead advising her to forget her mother for a while and put her grief away, like her brothers had advised, told her to remember her mother. She remembered his words even now. 

'Every child of Ilúvatar and Aule have a heart and every heart can feel pain. Look around you and you will see how many share your pain. Some have fared worse. And every heart can love and feel loved ones. Your heart can sense Celebrian and she can sense you. So how can she leave you? Her heart is with you and yours with her. She is near you and will always be.' 

She had never forgotten those words and never would. She vowed that she would never let Tylendal feel that his family, especially his mother, were dead, murdered hideously by the Orcs. 

'Every child of Ilúvatar and Aule have a heart and every heart can feel pain. Look around you and you will see how many share your pain.' She had found one who shared her pain and would do everything in her power bring back happiness into this sweet child's life. This sweet child who had a gift for putting his thoughts on paper. A gift for poetry. A gift of words. 

"I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face has spread all over the sky." She murmured to herself and left the room. 

Arwen had no way of knowing that Tylendals mother had not died at the hands of Orcs or that the rest of his family were still alive. She had no way of knowing that the little boy of whom she was growing so fond of was living with a name not his own. Or that his own father had almost killed him in a drunken fit. 

* * *

Notes:- 

The poem 'I cannot remember my mother' is not written by me. The author is an Indian poet of great renown by the name of Rabindranath Tagore. 

I have modified a few lines for it to collaborate with the Lord of the Rings Universe. Two lines of the poem are changed- 

1) The line 'the smell of simbelmyne flowers floats in the air' is actually 'the smell of shuili flowers floats in the air'   
2) The line 'the scent of the morning flowers' is actually 'the scent of the morning service in the temple' 

I will not receive any money or other remuneration for the poem or the story and do not claim the poem as mine, nor the characters of the story. 


	8. Memories Of Midnight

_**A Tale Only Whispered**_

**__**

Chapter 8- Memories Of Midnight

Boromir snuck into Faramir's room. He knew that he was not supposed to be there but he could not help him. His father had locked up the room and forbid anyone to go there except the servants once every two weeks to clean up. The locked door did not deter Boromir. He used to pick the lock whenever he remembered his brother. 

He now closed the door behind him and strode across the room. Despite his fathers' assurances that it was not Faramirs' fault that he had not met him one last time before leaving, he could not help but feel hurt. 

It had increased the feeling of loss of losing his brother by tenfold. It was as though he had lost a part of himself. He wondered along to the desk. A pile of books caught his attention. He smiled sadly. These days he could not look at a book without being reminded of Faramir. His bookish little brother, he thought affectionately. Where is he now? Is he bored? Scared? Happy? 

_Oh, Faramir!_ He sighed; _I wish you were here with me._

* * *

_Oh, Boromir!_ Faramir sighed; _I wished you were here with me._ Faramir was walking slowly, thinking of his brother. Suddenly, he heard some noises. 

"What is that noise?" Faramir started. He turned behind to find that Arwen was behind him, frowning. "I don't know," he replied. 

"Lets go see," she suggested. 

They entered the room. The first thing that registered in Faramir's mind that he was looking at an Elf shouting at its reflection in a mirror. No, not a mirror, he corrected himself, the twins Elladan and Elrohir. There was an upturned chessboard between them, the pieces all scattered. Estel and Legolas were sitting on nearby chairs, looking amused, and almost smirking. 

The twins were hurling curse words at each other now. 

"Daug!" 

"Dolle na lost!" 

"Amin feuya ten' lle!" 

"Antolle ulua sulrim!" 

"Auta miqula orqu!" 

Arwen swept into the room, looking majestic. "I suppose that Elrohir persuaded Elladan to play chess with him but in the of the game they started accusing each other of cheating and they started to…" She waved her hand vaguely behind her. 

"Yes, right on all, err, guesses," grinned Legolas. 

"And I suppose it is too strenuous for you two to break the fight up?" 

"Well..." Estel and Legolas looked at each other guiltily, "we didn't want to interfere," Legolas murmured. 

"Besides," Estel said, "its more amusing seeing how many new curse words they can come up with. And in how many different languages." He grinned as Elladan uttered a particularly foul and imaginative rohirric curse followed by an equally foul haradrim curse. 

"None of them likes to lose," sighed Arwen. 

Just then the twins stomped up to them and sat down, Elladan by Estel and Elrohir by Legolas. They sat there for a few seconds, glaring at each other. 

"Well," Elrohir spoke up, "anyone want to play chess with me? Anyone who is not a sore loser that is." 

Every body shifted uncomfortably, for no one wanted to play chess with Elrohir. He was an excellent player and no one wanted to embarrass himself or herself by losing against him as they all inevitably did. The very few that won against him were Celeborn and Elrond. Erestor was an equal to Elrohir's skill but found little time to indulge the young Peredhil. 

Suddenly, Legolas noticed Tylendal. "Hello Tylendal, I did not notice you. How are you?" 

"I'm fine, thank you," he murmured in a soft voice, suddenly shy. 

"I hope that Arwen hasn't been boring you?" grinned Elladan. 

"Elladan!" gasped Arwen in mock outrage. 

"Tylendal!" said Elrohir in too hearty a voice. "Do you know chess?" 

"Err…yes a little." 

Elrohir immediately pounced, "Then you can play with me! Do you play much?" 

"I…I play only sometimes," said Tylendal surprised. The truth was that no one would usually play with him for he was too good. People would usually become unnerved at his skill at so young an age. His bother would play with him sometimes but he usually and invariably lost. 

One of the things Boromir would tease with was a truly a terrible poem he had made up himself (his first and was thankfully his last.) 'He goes forth armed with his chessboard…in search of poor, unsuspecting victims…they bumble forth, unknowing of their peril… It on and on but Tylendal had forgotten the rest due to the fact that he would cover his ears with hands and keep saying in terrible singing tone, 'I can't hear you, I can't hear you'. 

Boromir would promptly increase his volume and recklessly Faramir would too. They would go on and on but then they would suddenly burst into laughter together. Then Faramir would jump on Boromir and start tickling him and try to make him promise that he never ever try to write a poem again. 

"Then play with me! Come on," Elrohir coaxed. "Come on please?" 

"Err…all right," Tylendal said. 

"Be careful of him Tylendal, see that he doesn't cheat," said Elladan in a loud voice. 

"Oh, please, if I remember correctly it was you who…" 

"Please shut up you two, I'm getting a headache. Go on Elrohir, play chess with Tylendal since he's agreed and forget about Elladan," commanded Estel. 

"Come on Tylendal, lets play," said Elrohir arranging the pieces. "You take the first move." 

Tylendal tentatively took a seat opposite Elrohir and then moved a soldier, already getting the feeling of excitement he got every time he got near a chessboard. His hands itching to move the pieces. His Army. The feeling of absolute command, his mind already forming strategies, forming them and testing them, bringing the memories of old battles to mind, that was his experience. 

****

**

* * *

**

****

**Translations: - **

1. Auta miqula orqu -- Go kiss an orc  
2. Antolle ulua sulrim -- Much wind pours from your mouth  
3. Dolle na lost -- Your head is empty  
4. Amin feuya ten' lle -- You disgust me  
5. Daug -- Barbarian


	9. Matters of the Heart, Hand and Mind

_**A Tale Only Whispered**_

Sentences in italics are thoughts. 

_Chapter 9-Matters of the Heart,Hand and Mind_

"Is it wise?" asked Elrond. 

"I am not sure, Elrond, but you must remember what he has gone through," replied Glorfindel. 

"But what I fear is the wrath of Denethor," said Elrond, frowning, "We have enough to contend with Orcs and Trolls and other foul creatures, than the armies of Gondar against us. I do agree that Fara-, Tylendal has had a very bad experience and -" 

"Ada!" 

"What is it Elladan?" asked Elrond as his eldest came bursting through the door. 

"Tylendal!" 

"What?" Elrond stood up and asked with surprising emergency. "Has he had a relapse or-?" 

"No! Elrohir!" grinned Elladan. 

"What??" by now the Lord Elrond, Master of Imladris was having an apoplexy. "Has something happened to Elrohir?" 

"This is getting ridiculous," muttered Glorfindel, seeing the grin on Elladan's face and getting the idea that it, whatever it was, was not as serious as Elrond was thinking. "Elladan, are you pretending to be Elrohir? Or is anyone hurt?" 

"No, of course not," replied Elladan annoyed, "All I'm saying is that Tylendal won the game of chess against Elrohir! Imagine that! Elrohir lost against a mere mortal!!" Elladan looked as the cat that had swallowed the canary. 

Elrond's eyes narrowed. _Elladan is in for it. Elrond is going to kill him,_ thought Glorfindel. 

"You," said Elrond very slowly and _**very**_ dangerously said, "You almost gave me a heart attack because of a stupid chess game?" 

"Err…" stammered Elladan nervously, "I, err, well…" 

"Hold," intervened Glorfindel, "how old is F-, Tylendal anyway?" 

"Why?" snapped Elrond, still glaring at Elladan. 

"Well, he must be terribly clever to have won against Elrohir," clarified Glorfindel. 

"Oh, I don't know about nine to twelve, he is a bit small for his age," relented Elrond, finally tearing his gaze from Elladan. 

"Fine, I have to go," muttered Elladan and practically fled out of the room. 

"Well, while the children are playing, we must discuss about the defences, and Thran-" Glorfindel broke off. "Are you paying attention, Elrond?" 

"Yes, I am. Please continue," said Elrond. 

But Elrond was not. He was still wondering about the instinct that had made him rise in worry for Faramir. And it had not been a healer's instinct. It was the feeling of possessiveness he got when Elladan, Elrohir or Estel got hurt. 

* * *

"I wasn't paying attention," protested Elrohir. "And I had no idea that you played so well," he said turning to Tylendal. 

Tylendal blushed. "Well usually there's no one to play with…" _Who would play with the Steward's son?_

"Is it because you always win?" asked Legolas with a raised eyebrow. 

"People don't like to lose, especially against a small boy," shrugged Tylendal. 

"I certainly know one person who really does not like to lose," sniggered Elladan. 

"How amazing, I know one such Elf too!" exclaimed Elrohir. 

Elladan growled and finally lost his temper. He leapt up started chasing Elrohir around the room, while Tylendal watched in disbelief. He had expected Elves to act a bit more, well, Elf- like. Though Elladan's intention was not to hurt Elrohir but all done in good intent, it made it all the more ridiculous. Legolas saw his expression and smiled, "Don't worry, they're always like that. At home they pretend to kill each other but woe the person who wilfully harms one of them for the other is always there for revenge for harming their beloved brother." 

In the meantime Elladan was pouring water down on Elrohir and tickling at the same time. Elrohir finally turned the tables on Elladan, tripping him, and starting to tickle him. The rest of them were watching this little comedy patiently with the easy familiarity of being through it many times. 

Tylendals mind started to wander. For some reason his mind drifted to Minas Tirith. He remembered once how his father had delivered a blow to his head.

* * *

_****_

_****_

_**One year ago in Minas Tirith.**_

"What are you thinking of, brother?" asked Boromir. 

"Nothing," replied Faramir. 

"Yes, there is something on your mind," Faramir smiled, no one could read him like Boromir. 

"How was sword practice?" Faramir changed subjects. 

"It was great," said Boromir enthusiastically, "But I wouldn't fancy fighting Mablung without weapons, he's as large and strong as a bear! And he wants to become a ranger of Ithilien. With his size!" 

"Size does not matter," protested Faramir. 

Suddenly another of the boys' playmates came running to then. It was Anborn. Anborn was a few years older than Faramir. He now spoke, "Faramir I heard that your father is searching for you." Faramir tried to act casual but unavoidably grew pale. 

"Are you alright?" asked Boromir in concern. 

"Yes, just a slight headache," said Faramir reassuringly, "probably just reading too much." 

"You just have to read so much…" 

"There he goes again, behaving as a mother hen," teased Anborn and he and Faramir sniggered while Boromir glared at them both. 

While Anborn and his brother kept up their friendly banter, Faramir sneaked away to meet his father. 

* * *


	10. Of Visions and Journeys

_**A Tale Only Whispered**_

Sentences in _italics_ are thoughts.

* * *

_Behind every great fortune there is a crime._

_** - Balzac**_

* * *

Chapter 10- Of Visions and Journeys

While Anborn and his brother kept up their friendly banter, Faramir sneaked away to meet his father.

* * *

__

_**One year later in Imladris**_

Denethor had slapped him so hard that his cheek had stung. As he raised his hand again Faramir ducked. Enraged, Denethor had grabbed his neck smashed it against the wall, then left him.

Tylendal now felt the same pain again in his head, the same white-hot pain but with something different. To his surprise instead of the red and white spots, he saw…a battle.

To his amazement he saw the twins, Elladan and Elrohir in the midst of the battle. Tylendal could only watch, horrified, as an Orc struck Elrohir on the head while Elladan cried out in horror and tried to get to his brother.

Then, to his utter amazement Arwen turned to him, (_how did she get here?), _and asked him, "Are you alright?"

Tylendal blinked to clear out the red and white spots in his vision. Arwen was looking at him strangely and asked again, "Are you alright, Tylendal?"

The twins were walking arm in arm towards him, all quarrels apparently resolved and forgotten. Tylendal smiled and lied flawlessly, "I'm alright, just a slight headache. I read too much."

"Well, Tylendal, ready for another game? And I promise not to underestimate you," Elrohir promised.

"Very well," he readily agreed.

Tylendal took his place once more, Elrohir smiled at him and Tylendal smiled back, a true smile.

* * *

"This is getting most ridiculous."

"I agree."

"We have to do **something**."

"I agree."

"Are you patronizing me, Erestor?

"I could never even dream to conceive such a thought to Glorfindel the Balrog slayer."

"Will you two stop? Its annoying me," said Elrond in annoyance.

"But it's unnatural, its not possible," insisted Glorifindol.

"Glorfindel, it does happen once in a while that the population of Orcs decreases and there is no reason to get suspicious," placated Erestor.

"But you have to admit, this sudden decrease of Orcs is strange at the very least," pointed out Lindir.

"Look," said Elrond bluntly, "the facts are that our scouts say that they have had very few sightings of Orcs anywhere near Imladris. The rangers also agree with them. Even though we increased the patrol and so did the rangers, we have no proof that the Orcs are setting a trap. We also do not have an inkling whether or not they have been called by the Dark Lord for some other heinous purpose."

"But don't you think-" started Glorfindel, but then stopped, "You're probably right. Things are getting so tame that I may be thinking things up."

"Now that has been resolved," said Elrond with relief, (he was getting very tired and irritated of Glorfindel and Erestor arguing, though he did not show it) "Legolas has been expressing a desire to go back to his father and his home."

"So soon?" asked Lindir with concern, "Is he properly healed to attempt such a long and dangerous journey?"

"He insists that he is," said Elrond, "and it would be useless to convince him otherwise for he is as stubborn as his father, King Thranduil of Mirkwood, besides my sons insist on accompanying him as protection. They reason that he would fall into some or the other trouble on the way home."

"Legolas does not fall into trouble if one of your sons is not with him," pointed out Erestor, "Aragorn especially. When Legolas and Aragorn are together they attract so much trouble that it seems that as though they are wearing a giant invisible sign that says, 'We are looking for trouble so please try to kill us'."

The others laughed heartily at this mental picture. It was true that Legolas and Estel attracted too much unnatural trouble. But it no more than Elladan and Elrohir attracted.

It was a favourite joke of the occupants of Imladris that whenever the four of them got together, three of them at the very least would end up in the healer's care. The only thing that kept any one of them from taking a permanent holiday to the halls of Mandos was their unwavering loyalty to each other and their conviction that they themselves would die before letting any of the other three die.

"In any case, Thranduil is also most insistent that he have his son back with him in a few weeks. He says it has been too long since he and Mirkwood have seen their Prince," said Elrond.

"Very well," sighed Glorfindel, "when does he want to go?"

"In his very own words, as soon as possible," replied Erestor and frowned, "and of course Elladan, Elrohir and Estel want to accompany him."

"Now that we're settled about that, we might divert our attention to these fresh reports that Celeborn and Galadriel have sent from Lorien. They say-"

* * *

In the meantime, while the council was going on late into the night, Tylendal was thinking about his day.

He realized that he didn't feel so bored now. Elrohir of course had won the second chess game. Elrohir had even offered to teach him the more complex moves and tactics.

But the problem was the strange vision. Tylendal frowned and tried to remember the details but could not. He went to sleep and tried to forget it.

* * *


	11. Nicknames and Palantirs

_**A Tale Only Whispered**_

Chapter 11- Nicknames and Palantirs

_So, the Dark Lord thinks that he can mount a surprise attack on Ithilien without my knowledge, _thought Denethor grimly.

He wearily stood up; these skirmishes with Lord of Mordor left him weak. But it helped, it helped in the defense of Gonder and surely that was all that that mattered?

_Even more than a son?_

Denethor squelched that thought quickly.

As he glanced at the black globe once again his mind flew to a time of happiness, when his beautiful wife was still alive…

_**Year 2984 Of The Third Age Of The World**_

_Ah, 'Tis a cruel world indeed when a son is expected to celebrate his father's death. _Denethor looked around the hall, where people where celebrating his succession to the Stewardship of Gonder.

Though it was true that it was three months since his father's death. His eyes swept across the hall, seeking out wife and saw her talking with his two elder sisters. He caught her eyes and she smiled, and she knew what he was thinking about. About the hypocrisy of the people who had assured him that his father would be sorely missed and no one could ever take his place were now at this very moment were extolling his virtues and declaring that Denethor was the finest and most successful Steward that Gonder had ever seen.

As the hall began to empty, Finduilas started to make her way towards him. She stopped next to him and said to him, "I am going to visit the boys, before they are put to bed, will you come?"

Denethor nodded, he would have followed her to the end of the world. They walked in silence to the rooms of their sons. As they entered, a small projectile raced to hug him. Denethor laughed and lifted his eldest. But Boromir squirmed to be put down, at seven, he already considered himself to be a 'man'. It was well enough that he did so, reflected Denethor, the childhood of the Hurin's were always fleeting. They had to shoulder responsibilities before they could walk and talk.

Lost in his thoughts, Denethor at first didn't notice that the bottom of his robes was being tugged. Looking down, he caught sight of a cute, cherubic face. Faramir stretched his arms towards Denethor, demanding to be picked up. His younger son, unlike Boromir had no qualms about being picked up.

"What's this child? Shouldn't you be in bed?" chuckled Denethor.

"He wanted to wait up for you, Father," said Boromir, smiling.

"Well," exclaimed Denethor, "I am honored!"

Faramir giggled helplessly as Denethor stated to tickle him. "Stop it!" bereted Finduilas gently and lifted Faramir from her husbands arms who reluctantly relinquished of his son.

Faramir started wailing indignantly at being separated from his father, for he, in his learned opinion, saw very little of Denethor.

Denethor laughed merrily and said, "You shall break fast with me tomorrow and I well see to it that your favorite dishes are served, if you go to bed quietly," promised Denethor.

Faramir instantly stopped wailing and permitted his mother to carry him to bed while she crooned endearments in his ear. Denethor blinked at how quickly his son had shut up and looked at Boromir, who was still standing beside him. Boromir grinned at the look on his fathers face and said, "He wanted to eat with you all week but you were too busy, mayhap this is his way to get what he wants. Very cunning is he not?"

"After all, whose son is he?" Denethor laughed.

"But he is my brother!" exclaimed Boromir and followed his mother, chortling at his brother's antics.

The Steward stood there for a moment and a shadow passed over his face and doubt entered his mind.

Denethor shook such thoughts out of his head and kissed his wife and sons good night. Then he walked to what would become his doom.

Denethor knew what he was doing was very foolhardy. Not even the last two kings of Gondor, Earnil and Earnur had done such a thing, nor of course any of the Stewards.

But that was the problem, after all weren't the Stewards responsible for taking care of the kingdom until the king returned? If he did at all.

The death of his father was not a much unexpected thing, though very…unnerving. Bereft of his fathers wisdom ….

For all the differences that Ecthelion and his son, Denethor, had for each other, Denethor could not deny that his father was the wisest man he had ever known. Gondor had prospered greatly during his rule.

Denethor straightened his back as he made his final decision. He walked the tower of Ecthelion, which was glinting a pale white light even in the darkness. He ascended the tower, climbing the stairs right till the very top chamber. As Denethor pushed open the heavy door, he could not help but cough for it was very dusty. As though the room had not been dusted in centuries. Which was the truth, for no servants were allowed there.

He walked to the center of the room and pulled a chair next to the table that was placed there exactly in the middle of the chamber. Denethor took in a deep breath and pulled of the dark silken cloth off a dark round object and gazed into the palantir for the first time.

_**The Present, Ecthelion Tower**_

_Was it really so long ago_, Denethor wondered, _since my father's death and Finduilas was happy and alive? How time flies._

He shook himself out of his thoughts. He had work to do. The Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien had to alerted and advised. Denethor sighed, though Turin, the Captain of the Rangers was a wise man, in these times, and Ithilien needed better.

A man who every ranger would look up to, a man who could repel the enemy's tactics independently, without any guidance while teaching his men to hope. Also, the man had to have legendary skills with the bow and arrow not to mention the sword.

_If such a man existed, _thought Denethor wryly.

Deep in his thoughts, Denethor exited the chamber.

**_Imladris_**

"Ha, you jest!"

"Now who is fooling himself?"

Tylendal smiled as he heard Legolas and Estel fight about some obscure subject.

Again.

Tylendal was in the garden with quite a few people. Elladan and Elrohir along with Erestor were taking advantage of the sunlight and were lying on the grass. Glorfindel, Arwen, Legolas and Estel were the only others present there. At first, Tylendal thought that he would be bored and lonely in Imladris. On the contrary, he was feeling quite happy, though he missed Boromir very much. He was also being trained in sword fighting and the Bow, not to mention being taught several different languages and also history by Erestor.

Still, there were times when panic would settle on Tylendal, panic he could not identify. The common fear that came from being torn from your home and thrust into a new, strange place.

Tylendal had grown closer to the twins, Estel, Legolas and of course Arwen. They were coming to love this strange, grave and yet shy boy. At first they had pitied him, losing his family in such a devastating and sudden way. Coupled with their hatred for the Orcs, they were determined to make him feel better. But now, they were beginning to love him as a brother. His quiet dignity and shy and grave nature in such a period in his life had won them over.

Though normally Tylendal was able to gauge people's emotions very well, he would have been astonished to find out how much the four Elves and human were beginning to care for him.

"Please," said Arwen angrily, "stop it you two!"

Legolas and Estel froze, looking like guilty children who had been caught doing something bad.

Glorfindel laughed at their expressions, and Estel mock scowled at him.

"I do not find anything funny in this."

"I do,"

"Of course you would, **_Glorfy_**," smirked Estel.

Tylendal choked on the water that he had been drinking. Raising an eyebrow he asked, "Glorfy?"

Elladan and Elrohir laughed as Glorfindel glared at them.

Legolas explained, "When Elladan and Elrohir were Elflings, they were too young to pronounce his name correctly and so nicknamed him Glorfy. As they grew older, they stopped. But then Arwen was born and they encouraged her to call him Glorfy. The same thing happened with Estel; they called it 'tradition'. I believe Lord Erestor encouraged them to do so," he said, glancing at a certain chagrined looking councilor.

"And nobody has forgotten it yet," muttered a rather disgruntled Balrog-slayer.

"True, we even have friendly competitions to see of anyone can come up with a more embarrassing nickname. So far none has succeeded," Arwen said, grinning, her temper apparently improved.

"But still, it could be worse," said Tylendal.

"Ha, I don't think so," scoffed Glorfindel.

"Maybe Tylendal can come up with a better name, eh Tylendal?" grinned Erestor.

"Glorfindel means 'golden haired', right?" asked Tylendal.

"Correct," said Erestor, extremely pleased that Tylendal had been paying attention to his lessons.

"So his name would be, 'Golden haired, the Golden, of the Golden Flower House,'" Tylendal paused, "Well, just be thankful that they don't call you 'Goldie' or 'Goldilocks'," Tylendal stopped and clamped a hand to his mouth, realizing what he had just said.

"Yes!" yelled Elladan, the more reckless of the two twins, though the eldest, "Now, why didn't **_I_** think of that?"

Tylendal looked chagrined and apologized to Glorfindel even though he really didn't mind.

"He doesn't mind, do you Goldie?" grinned Legolas wickedly.

"Someone please kill me," groaned Glorfindel, "Maybe there's a Balrog nearby," he said looking around hopefully, and not finding one groaned, "Where's one when you actually need it?" while the others laughed harder.

**_H_**


	12. Nightmare

_**A Tale Only Whispered**_

Chapter 12- Nightmare

"Yes, we will-"

"-And, please, _please_ try to stay out of trouble-"

"What do you think we'll do? Get ourselves in a battle or go barging in an Orc camp or-,"

"Yes,"

"Well, that's not the point-"

"Actually, there is some truth-"

"You are supposed to be on our side-"

"All I'm saying is-"

"Ahem."

All turned towards Erestor. He raised an eyebrow and said, "If the 'farewells' are over…then perhaps they will be able to finally set out?"

'They' in question were the escort party of Legolas that were to take him back to his kingdom. Legolas had protested vehemently against this because of his dislike of pomp and show. Only after the twins and Estel had pleaded to him about it, he had consented (with some help from Arwen and Tylendal.)

Though Lord Elrond was still a tad bit apprehensive about this journey, which was not surprising, given the number of times the foursome (Legolas, the twins and Estel) had got themselves into utterly unpredictably and dangerous …circumstances.

Elladan grinned and turned to his father, "Well, Ada? Anything more to warn us against? Orcs, Wargs, trolls, ravines…"

"Yourselves," Elrond deadpanned.

"We'll be alright, Ada," reassured Estel.

"That's what you always say…"

"Glorfindel!"

"What? It's the truth," exclaimed the warrior from Gondolin.

Elrond sighed at the light-hearted banter, and pulling himself together said briskly to his sons and Legolas, "Now, for the last time, be careful. I do not want you coming back to Imladris with injuries. Not only that, if Legolas gets injured (again), his father will disembowel me and has written to me how exactly he will rearrange my body parts as he so kindly informed me in his last letter."

He walked over to a group of warriors who were included in the escort of Legolas and Erestor and Glorfindel soon joined them, leaving the three brothers with their sister and Legolas and Tylendal.

"Well," Elrohir said as he hugged Arwen, "you don't need to warn us about anything, father had already warned us about everything on Arda."

"Father just worries about you," she laughed and hugged each of them in turn and kissed Estel on the cheek while Elladan and Elrohir watched like hawks as she did so and Legolas snickered at their over protectiveness when it came to Arwen.

Tylendal was rather surprised when they hugged him too and even more so when Elladan ruffled his hair and told him to take care of himself. Boromir and Elladan were a lot alike, he reflected, both of them were so over protective about their siblings, both of them were also had a hot temper and a love for battle.

He and Arwen stood and waved to the disappearing party while Lord Elrond did the same, flanked by Glorfindel and Erestor.

Tylendal suddenly saw a flash of light that soon spread to his entire sight and saw the same land he saw every night. And the same sounds- battle cries. Arwen asked him whether he was alright and he replied in the affirmative. A little way away Lord Elrond was experiencing a strange and uneasy feeling that felt familiar but he could not quite place his finger on it.

* * *

"And so 'Alcar' and 'Alcare' both having the same meaning, the latter being a longer variant of the former-," Erestor broke off, looking at his student, "Are you alright Tylendal? You don't seem to be paying attention."

Tylendal looked up, and blushed. The fact was that he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything since the escort had left late last night. He got the nagging feeling that he had forgotten to do something. "I'm sorry, Erestor."

"It's alright Tylendal, why don't we end the lesson here, now," Erestor suggested.

Tylendal nodded and hopped out of his chair and quickly went out of the room. Erestor smiled as he beheld the small boy. He had been given the job of personally tutoring the young boy because of his secret past. Elrond was too busy and Glorfindel was already teaching him forms of warfare. They also made sure that Faramir was helped by Estel so that he was taught the Gondarin methods of sword fighting.

Tylendal still sometimes cringed if anyone touched him though he tried to hide it. It was probably the after effects of the beatings of his father. Erestor scowled to himself, how could anyone do such a thing to a child? Especially one as shy and sweet as Tylendal.

* * *

Tylendal undressed and quickly fell into bed. _What is it that's nags me so? Why do I get the feeling that fell deeds are going to occur? _With such thoughts in his mind Tylendal fell asleep.

As was his wont he dreamt many things. He dreamt about his brother and his mother. He dreamt about Numenor, the thousands of people drowning…

_The same plain, overshadowed by the mountains. The same battle cries- guttural orc cries and fair elvish voices. Tylendal squinted his eyes to see properly who they were. "Who are they?" he wondered aloud to himself._

_Then he saw._

"_No," he whispered first to himself, "NO!"_

_He saw the glint of the diamonds and emeralds. It came from a circlet. The very same circlet of Mirkwood that Legolas had worn when he had set out. Looking around he saw Elladan fighting near Estel. He looked around to find Elrohir, desperately wishing that he were not hurt. But before he could seek Elrohir out Tylendal woke up._

"No!" Tylendal shouted. _How can this be? Is this a dream?_ He thought to himself. He closed his eyes, trying to sort out his feelings. _Yes, it is true,_ he thought in panic.

Tylendal threw off his sheets and tried to find someone, **anyone**, who he could warn in time. _Maybe it's already too late! It has been hours since they set out._

He wandered around Imladris for what seemed like hours; panic mounting high and cursing the architecture. But there was no one. Apparently, they had all been tired by the day's preparations and departures.

With a sign of relief he found Lord Elrond's room and pushed it open. But then he gasped out loud when he saw that Lord Elrond was dead.

How could this happen? But his eyes could not lie. Lord Elrond was dead. His eyes were open, not blinking, staring at the ceiling without seeing anything, not focusing at all. Tylendal gasped again and took a step backward.

Then to his utter surprise, Lord Elrond sat up on his bed and blinked and looked at him. "What is it Tylendal?" he asked in concern.

Tylendal was speechless, which was not completely unsurprising for he just seen a dead person rise back from the death. "I-I saw your-your eyes," Tylendal stuttered, "they were…"

"Open?" asked Lord Elrond and Tylendal nodded, "Tylendal that is how we Elves sleep."

Elrond rubbed his eyes; he had not been sleeping well for the past few days. He had nightmares but strangely enough he could not remember them.

"I-I had a nightmare," Tylendal said as terror overwhelmed him, terror not for himself but for the Lord Elrond's sons.

"A nightmare?" Lord Elrond asked. A nightmare was no special thing, everybody had them. But something told him that this one was very special. Quickly Tylendal explained to him what he had seen, begging him to he send a company of warriors to check on the escort. As the boy from Gondor was describing the landscape, Lord Elrond had a vision. He saw a vast plain, the air filled with orc cries and elvish voices alike.

The vision faded and the Lord of Imladris saw Tylendal looking at him with pleading eyes and said, "Please believe me, I **_know_** it's not just a dream, its real! I saw it happen! Please believe me and send someone after them to help them."

Lord Elrond, without saying a word swept from the room, a very nervous son of Gondor following him. He wondered if Lord Elrond was not going to keep him in Imladris but send him packing back to Minas Tirith.

But, to his extreme relief, Lord Elrond went to Glorfindel's room, woke him up and explained everything to him. Tylendal stood fidgeting near the door wondering why they weren't doing anything fast. Elrond spoke to Glorfindel in urgent, low confidential tones and so Tylendal could not hear what they were discussing.

Once, during the earnest discussion, Lord Glorfindel sent Tylendal a piercing look that made him feel as if Glorfindel was looking straight through him, into his very thoughts and mind. Tylendals first reaction was to go far, far away but he bravely met his gaze and shielded his thoughts. Glorfindel nodded and went back to the very strange conversation he was having with Elrond.

Tylendal was wondering if they were actually talking if he, Tylendal, was insane. Then both of the Lords of Imladris, to Tylendal's great relief, went and got a company assembled, which included Glorfindel. There was of course great confusion.

"Tylendal," said a gentle voice, and an equally gentle hand touching his shoulder as he stood shivering in the cold.

"Arwen!" Tylendal exclaimed and hugged her tightly, thankful that she had not gone out there in the wild with her brothers. "Arwen, I saw-"

"Yes, I know, little one, father explained it all to me," she said gently, though there was a strain in her voice. _I can't lose my brothers too now- not after what befell mother. And Estel! Please don't let anything happen to him! _

"Where is Lord Elrond? Why aren't they setting out yet?" asked Tylendal urgently.

"There they are," Arwen gestured towards where her father and Glorfindel were having a heated debate, "Let's go ask them." Arwen and Tylendal walked towards them.

"But-,"

"No. Absolutely not," said Glorfindel firmly.

"They are my sons and I am the Lord of Imladris, I-," Elrond was abruptly cut off again.

"Mellon nin," Glorfindel sighed, "you are too tired and as you say, you are the Lord of Imladris. Who will look after her?"

"There is Erestor," Elrond started to say.

"You are Lord of Imladris, not Erestor," pointed out Glorfindel, rather smugly, "And please hurry- we may be running out of time."

"Very well, go," Elrond whispered after a lengthy and tension wracked pause.

Glorfindel immediately called for his horse and shouted at the warriors to start moving as though he was afraid that Elrond would suddenly change his mind and demand to go with him to find his sons.

Then began the Wait.

**_h_**


	13. The Endless Wait

**_A Tale Only Whispered_**

Chapter 13- The Endless Wait.

An unnatural silence overwhelmed Imladris. Many had friends, spouses, and children in the party that accompanied the esteemed prince of Mirkwood. Adding to the sorrow of the Elves of Imladris was the knowledge that the sons of their Lord were in danger. Many hoped in their hearts that this alarm was false.

Very few had the knowledge that it was Tylendal that had foreseen this great catastrophe. The only people that knew this were the remaining members of the family of Elrond, Elrond himself and Arwen, and also Erestor, he being the chief councillor of Elrond.

There was no more laughter in Imladris anymore; no more songs were sung in the Hall of Fire. Many were reminded of the time when the Orcs had taken Lord Elrond's wife, Celebrian and had tortured her.

As for Tylendal, he stood for hours on the Eastern roof, from where one could see the path that lead to Imladris, without taking any rest, keeping a silent vigil and nothing could deter him nor persuade him to come down.

No one knew that Tylendal blamed himself. He wished that he had taken heed of the warnings that had plagued him in the night. If only he had not been so caught up in his own selfish and petty affairs then this might not have come to pass.

Then he saw a disturbance below him, people were running towards the path. He stiffened and felt Arwen, who was with him gasp softly. Both of them quickly ran down and found Erestor and Elrond already there.

There was a complete and unnatural silence as the crowd parted for Elrond and his chief adviser Erestor while Arwen and Tylendal followed them. The riders that had set out with Glorfindel seemed to have doubled in size. There were many horses that carried two riders instead of one and that meant that one of the two riders was injured.

The party was lead by Glorfindel. The first four riders, including Glorfindel, carried four others with them and some of them unconscious. The unconscious ones were Elladan, Legolas and Estel.

"Bring the herbs, quickly, and prepare the houses of healing" Elrond snapped at a healer, who quickly scuttled off to do her Lords bidding.

Elrohir dismounted from a horse and threw himself in his fathers' arms. There were tears in his eyes and Elrond noticed in alarm there was a huge lump on his head. "I'm sorry," Elrohir whispered.

Elrond gently shushed him and led him into the house. Unfortunately, Tylendal's vision had proved true. Glorfindel had just barely reached in time. But before they could do so, many of Elves that were accompanying Legolas had been injured, including Legolas himself.

Legolas was not the only one injured, though. Elladan and Estel were also gravely injured. So much, in fact, that none of the three were conscious yet. Elladan was one of the most injured and was running an unnatural high fever that gave rise to the opinion that he might have been poisoned by an arrow shot by the Orcs.

Many herbs were being used and applied but few were taking affect for none of the healers knew which poison Elladan had been affected with, if he had at all.

"Tylendal?" asked a voice. Turning around the son of Denethor found it was Lindir, one of the best musicians of Imladris. "Lord Elrond has sent for you."

"Yes, I'm coming," nodded Tylendal and turned towards Lord Elronds' study, his heart sinking. Where they going to send him away?

Pushing open the door he found that Erestor, Glorfindel and Arwen were also present there. Arwen nodded at him and smiled a bit wearily for she had been tending the wounded. Erestor gestured at him to sit between him and Arwen. Taking the seat, Tylendal noticed for the first time that another Elf was also there, sitting in front of Lord Elrond where everyone could see him.

The Elf looked curiously at Tylendal, surprised to find a little boy in this small gathering. Tylendal was also confused as to why he was being included here and to the identity of the Elf.

"You can start now, Galathil," commanded Elrond.

Then Tylendal remembered, it was one of the elves who had been with the twins and the others!

"We had just set camp for the night," started Galathil and Tylendal realized that he was narrating how they had been attacked. "Everybody's spirits were high, and nobody had any suspicions of what was going to befall us…

* * *

"Ha! Just try to Mortal!" 

"Elf, if you don't keep quiet, I may just blurt out the incident involving a certain prince of Mirkwood and the Enchanted River!"

"Dunadan…" growled Legolas at Estel as everyone in the vicinity snickered at their antics, when suddenly a shout interrupted him.

"_**Elrohir!!**_"

"Oops, I think Elladan has discovered that Elrohir put black gunk mud in his blankets," Legolas whispered to Estel.

"Not only in his blankets but his backpack too," Estel snickered as Elladan, covered in black sticky mud started chasing Elrohir all round the camp much to the amusement of everybody present.

After about 15 minutes of seeing the extremely amusing spectacle, in which Elladan screamed various imaginative phrases and threats of dire consequences in a variety of different languages ranging from Quenya to Dwarven, they got bored.

"Stop it, Elladan," said Faron in amusement, "By the way, shouldn't we send someone to scout and set the watch?"

"Yes, and you two can take the first watch," commanded Galadhon to Elladan and Elrohir, "And as for the scout…"

But a number of groans interrupted him, "You heard the reports from the captains, there are very few Orcs here!" an Elf called out.

"But, there are so many caves here above," protested Galadhon half-heartily, "They could jump down on us!"

"Then they'll fall and flatten themselves on the ground! Then we'll have to mop them up with our brooms **_and_** swords!" Elrohir called out amid gales of laughter.

"Oh, alright," grumbled Galadhon good-naturedly, "But you'll regret it!" he said, not knowing how true it was.

"Ai, if only the Dwarves knew how lazy we are!" said Legolas.

"Not 'we', Legolas, you!" teased Estel.

"Come here, you blind two-legged creature, sickly excuse for a mortal and I'll show how lazy I am!"

After some time though, all of them settled down to sleep. The three elves who had the first watch sat together quietly talking for sometime. There was an atmosphere of peace and security all over the camp. This was just what the Orcs had been waiting for.

Several elves woke at the same time, hearing something. Then, they all heard a shout. It was from one of the three elves who had been given the first watch. They looked towards him and found him fighting an orc. Even as he slew it with his sword, a dozen jumped from the caves above, where they had been hiding.

"Legolas, look out behind you!" shouted Elladan from where he was fighting three Orcs at once.

"Elrohir!" Elladan shouted again in horror as an Orc struck his beloved twin brother on the head. He moved towards to help him but Estel reached him in time and prevented Elrohir from losing his one and only head.

So intent he had been to reach his twin that Elladan did not notice the Orc behind him until the felt the blow on his back. He stumbled, losing his grip on the sword. Another blow sent him to his knees. A number of thoughts were running around in his mind. _Dawn is too far away. We'll never be able to survive the night without reinforcements. And nobody knows about this attack in Imladris. _

He felt a sharp stab on the back of his shoulder. Vaguely, he wondered, as he fell to the ground on his back, if it was a sword or an arrow.

The last thing he saw was an Orc, triumphant, with his sword held ready to plunge it down and end his life, before losing consciousness. He did not see Glorfindel's arrow hit the Orc in front of him.

* * *

"And then we saw Glorfindel riding to us. Seeing so many more elves, and the Elf Lord Glorfindel revealed in his wrath the Orcs drew back amazed and afraid. Soon, dawn broke out and we set out from there with the wounded," concluded Galathil. 

"Thank you, Galathil," said Erestor, "you must be tired, go and rest."

Galathil nodded and bowed to them. "Ai, if only we had listened to Galadhon," he sighed.

The strain in the Lord of Imladris, Elrond was all too notable. He had lost his father and mother for the good of the fate of Arda. He had lost his brother to mortality. He stood a good chance of losing his daughter to the same reason. And not only them, he had also lost his second father, Maglor. His first father, he had hardly known and when fate had given him a second father, whom he had come to love very much, had been lost to him again. His wife too, he had lost to the Orcs. Unable to bear the trauma of being tortured, she had left.

Ah, Celebrian. He had fallen in love with her at first sight. The only daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel had captured his heart when she had gravely rested her eyes on him. How could he face her without any of their children? Arwen would be lost to them in every way, just like Luthien had been. And now Elladan too? And Estel.

Out of all the mortal descendants of his brother, Elros Tar-Minayatar, Estel was the only one he had loved as much as he did his own sons because Estel was the only one who resembled him the most.

How could he face Thranduil? The Elven-king of Mirkwood had already lost his wife and now his son?

So many lives were going to be lost, all because of his incompetence. How could he ever face anyone again? How could he ever look anyone in the eye again without shame?

Elrond felt tears blur his eyesight. He had never felt so lonely. Then, Elrond felt a small, reassuring hand slipping inside his own. He blinked his eyes and looked down. It was Faramir who had been given the name Tylendal. Faramir now smiled at him, a beautiful, innocent smile that would melt an iceberg. "They will be alright," he said confidently. Elrond felt tears fill up his eyes again and hugged Tylendal and wept, wept as he had never before. It was strange that a small boy should comfort an Elf as old as him.

"Thank you, little one," Elrond said after he had relieved himself of so many years of burden in the form of tears. He felt much better now and had hope again in his healing abilities. He would do his best to get his sons and Legolas healed again. Tylendal smiled again and it was like the rising sun, full of hope.

Arwen entered, with red eyes but looking much better than she had been looking for the past few days. Elrond suspected that Tylendal had paid her a little visit too. The small boy slipped off the chair he had been sitting on and went out of the room, sensing that they needed to talk together alone. It was amazing how perceptive Tylendal could be, even at such a young age.

"How are you Ada?" Arwen asked, as her father look her in her arms.

"Much better than I've been for the past few hours, thanks to Tylendal," Elrond said.

"It's so strange isn't it Ada, that a small boy can comfort us?"

"And give us hope again," smiled Elrond.

"Sometimes," sighed Arwen, "we forget we are not the only ones that have suffered so."

_You have no idea of how much Faramir has really suffered,_ Elrond thought to himself.

* * *

"Tylendal, won't you take some rest now?" asked Glorfindel. Tylendal had been practically living in the houses of healing since the wounded had been brought in, especially the room where the sons of Elrond and Legolas had been put. 

Elrohir had been so devastated at the conditions of his brothers and friend, which Elrond had worried Elrond so much that he persuaded Elrohir to drink a sleep inducing potion. It would help him relax and regain his heath.

"I'll can a little while longer, can't I? Please?" Tylendal asked with pleading eyes and Glorfindel melted.

"Fine," Glorfindel relented.

"Where are you going?" asked Tylendal, looking curiously at him.

"There's going to be a council," answered Glorfindel, "All the Lords of Imladris are going to be there."

"Is it about the Orc attack?" asked Tylendal, curious.

"Yes," smiled Glorfindel at him, though his expression turned grim thinking of the Orcs.

"And by the way, if any of them wakes up," Glorfindel said, gesturing at the four prone bodies lying in the room, "give them the goblet of medicine on the table, though most probably they won't wake up for the next few days." _Or never,_ he silently added to himself but then banished the thought.

"I will, Lord Elrond already explained it to me," reassured Tylendal.

Glorfindel nodded at him again and swept out of the room. Outside, he met Erestor heading to the council too.

"We had better hurry," said Erestor, "It took me about two hours to convince Elrond to attend the council. He was very unwilling to leave them," Erestor jerked his head towards the room from where Glorfindel had emerged.

Inside the room, Tylendal sat on a chair from where he could see all four of their occupants. _Why did this have to happen to them?_ Tylendal thought to himself as he moved towards Elladans' bed. _They are so-_

Suddenly Tylendal heard a noise behind him. It was Elladan. Tylendal anxiously bent over, checking him. Elladan moaned again and opened his eyes and seeing Tylendal, closed it again.

Tylendal rushed to the table and lifted the goblet that contained Elladan's medicine. He carried it back carefully to the bed and helped Elladan drink it.

Elladan groaned but seemed much better. He opened his mouth to say something but had a fit of coughing.

"I'll call, Lord Elrond," Tylendal said and Elladan coughed weakly.

Tylendal rushed to the door intending to find lord Elrond but something made him stop and turn around.

"Ada?" Legolas called out weakly.

_Legolas must be thinking that I am his father._ Tylendal quickly rushed to him and repeated the same steps he had taken with Elladan.

It seemed that Legolas had not been injured as much as Elladan for he sat up in bed and asked Tylendal, "What happened?" in a hoarse voice.

"You were attacked;" explained Tylendal quickly, "But Glorfindel reached you in time."

Legolas shakily took another sip with some help from Tylendal and asked anxiously, "What about the twins and Estel?"

"There're here with you," Tylendal said, gesturing around the room, "Elladan woke up just before you, and I was about to call Lord Elrond when I heard you." He did not bother to explain about Elrohir, it would take too long.

"How-," Legolas was overtaken with another fit of coughing and Tylendal worried, "I'll call Lord Elrond," and speedily ran out of the room.

_Who built this place??_ Tylendal thought to himself as he rushed around trying to find the room where the council was taking place. _Why does it have to have so many damn corridors and columns? _He thought, nearly banging his head on one by mistake. _Couldn't it have signboards too??_

Tylendal finally arrived at a pair of ornate doors, hoping he could find Lord Elrond there. He pushed open the doors and found himself in a large room…and everyone in the room staring at him. _Well, at least I found where the Lords of Imladris are holding the council._

"Yes Tylendal, what is it?" asked Lord Elrond, rising.

Resisting the urge to blush or bolt out of there because of so many pairs of keen eyes leveled at him, Tylendal stood his ground firmly and announced to the whole room, "Elladan and Legolas are awake."

Several elves stood up in surprise and many cried in relief. _Some of them_, thought Tylendal, _probably because they did not want to explain to the King of Mirkwood why his son is lying in a coma._

"And the others?" asked an Elf who Tylendal had seen many times before, but did not know personally.

"No," Tylendal shook his head, "at least not before I left."

"Very well, council is adjourned for the day, we shall meet again this time tomorrow," commanded Elrond and saying softly to Tylendal, "Come."

Tylendal followed Elrond to the houses of healing.

"Did you give them the medicine, Tylendal?"

"Yes,"

"And how are they?" Elrond asked anxiously.

"Legolas seemed stronger that Elrohir, he was able to say a few words before he was overtaken by a horrible fit of coughing."

"Coughing?" asked Elrond in deep thought to himself.

They entered the room to find Elladan and Legolas, apparently much better than Tylendal had left them, sitting up in bed and watching Estel. When the door opened, they turned towards Elrond and Tylendal.

"Ada," exclaimed Elrohir, "I think Estel is awake."

Elrond hurried to his foster-sons bed and forced him to swallow a whole glass of colourless liquid.

"Gah, it's so bitter!" Estel exclaimed, almost spitting it out.

"Well, it's your fault for getting injured, again," scolded Lord Elrond.

"Our fault? We don't control the Orcs," Estel indignantly exclaimed.

A small group of healers came in and swiftly started to see to the three occupants. Tylendal slipped out of the room, sensing that he wouldn't be of use there any more.

Tylendal wondered around blindly for a few moments, feeling a lot happier and relieved than he had been feeling for the last few days.

"Tylendal!" he heard a melodious voice call out to him. Turning around he saw Arwen and a few more elves behind her.

"Are the rumours true? That Elladan and Legolas are awake?" asked Arwen anxiously.

"Yes," nodded Tylendal cheerfully, happy that he had been able to give her some good news at last, "and not only Elladan and Legolas, but Estel too."

All of the elves present gave out relieved sighs and many of the comparatively younger elves let loose their nervous energy by cheering, prompting scandalized looks from the older elves.

* * *

Arwen pushed open the door to find Estel and Elladan complaining about something loudly albeit a bit weakly. 

She walked over to them and stood with her arms folded and eyes narrowed.

"Heh-Heh," grinned Estel nervously. "Hello and…err…"

Arwen just narrowed her eyes till they were small slits. Elrond and Erestor wisely refrained from interfering. Arwen may look like a sweet-tempered and gentle person and she was, but Eru help those who aroused her ire.

And now the unfortunate victims were currently trembling in their beds.

"I'll deal with you all after your healed," said Arwen in a very soft and dangerous voice, "When you all of you will have full use of your legs."

The victims…err…Elves and human scarcely knew whether to be thankful for the extended life period granted to them or to be terrified. They settled for thankful. Unfortunately, it turned out to be too early.

Arwen grinned ferociously and said, "So you can run when I come to kill you."

They gulped.

* * *

**A Few Days Later**

Elrond frowned at a letter in his hand. Then smiled. Then smirked. Then frowned again.

The only two other occupants in the room were Elrond's chief advisor and one of his warriors, who were watching the little pantomime with considerable amusement and confusion.

Glorfindel glanced at Erestor and whispered to him, "Do you think he has finally lost his mind?"

"Perhaps," whispered back Erestor, "He does have a lot of responsibilities and he not exactly a very stable individual."

Elrond cleared his throat pointedly and said, "You know, even if I am a Peredhil, it doesn't mean that I can't hear you."

Glorfindel smiled charmingly, "Then tell us why you are behaving like a…a…"

"A madman?" suggested Erestor.

"A perfectly normal Peredhil?" Elrond said, glaring at Erestor.

"Then, what is the reason for the smiles, frowns and smirks?" prompted Glorfindel.

"It's a letter from Thranduil. He sends his curses to me and also a surprise for Legolas," smirked Elrond.

"Wipe that look off your face, mellon nin, it is most uncomplimentary to an Elf Lord," said Erestor, "And what's the surprise that Thranduil is sending to his son Legolas?"

"Himself," smiled Lord Elrond.

"**_What?_**"

"Yes," said Elrond and looked at the letter in his hand, "By the Lord, Thranduil has worse vocabulary than my sons," he said admiringly.

"You do realise that Thranduil is going to kill you once he comes, for getting his son in trouble again, don't you?" asked Erestor cautiously.

"I don't think so," said Elrond, finally putting the letter down, "He'll be too busy strangling Legolas for getting into trouble. Again."

"Point taken," said Glorfindel.

"Who's going to tell Legolas?" asked Elrond.

Immediately Glorfindel and Erestor began to examine their nails and fuss unnecessarily with robes.

"Some lot of friends you are," scowled Elrond.

"We don't need to tell Legolas anyway," said Erestor thinking hard, "If we do, he'll probably run away to escape the wrath of his father," he joked.

"True," grimaced Glorfindel, "Any one would run away from Thranduil when **he **is in a temper. He's one of the wisest Elders I've met but when he gets into a temper…the only person who can withstand his temper is Celeborn."

"Lord Celeborn probably had a lot of practice in Doriath," agreed Erestor.

"Speaking of Celeborn," said Erestor slowly, "You never did tell how exactly Tylendal knew there was going to be an attack."

"He has the foresight, just like his father," said Elrond, "I saw it from the beginning, but I had no idea that it was so strong," admitted Elrond.

"Well," said Erestor, "He certainly averted a great disaster."

"Trust Mithrandir to leave a child who can see the future and not say a word about it," grinned Glorfindel.

"Mithrandir can certainly make dramatic entrances," grinned Elrond, "Honestly, he's come here in so many strange ways, with so many strange companions, I wouldn't be surprised if he came through the door right this minute and said "'Hello! What's for dinner?'"

As soon as Elrond finished his sentence the door burst open and a tall man wearing grey raiment came in.

"Hello," grinned Mithrandir, "What's for dinner?"

* * *

**Notes: **I am so very sorry for neglecting this, but my laptop crashed a year ago and I lost all of my files. I did have this story on disk but by the time I managed to locate it, I realised that the document containing my passwords was lost due to the systems crash. I very nearly gave on this story when I remembered the magic word i.e. the password. 

Also, I need a beta. All of this is unbetaed. There have been no reviews complaining about grammar or spelling but I need some constructive advice on the plot.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. You made my day (or night, seeing as it's 2 in the morning).


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